Friday, February 19, 2010

I started smoking at age 9. I had a friend, her name was Kelly too, she smoked and I wanted so much to be like her. She told me to turn around and take a hit off a cigarette. I did. I coughed. The next few months I smoked, but didn't inhale. I was closer to age 10 when I began smoking for real.

I smoked pot and drank the summer in turned 12 (my bday is August 2nd) I remember that night so clearly, even though I was completely hammered. My mother was graduating from her DUI classes (I know, we are so classy) and she had bought a bottle of Firewater to celebrate. She was running late and her friends started to arrive. The one guy, I will call him Kevin, asked where my mom's alcohol was. I showed him. He opened it up and asked if I wanted a taste. Of course I wanted a taste. I was 12 and I wanted to be cool. I ended up drinking 3/4 the bottle. I was already in my room by the time my mom came home and Kevin had told my mom he was the one who drank the bottle. He was trying to keep me out of trouble. From then on it was a blur. I know I woke up the next morning sick as a dog. I ran to the bathroom to vomit only to find out I had soiled my pajama pants. It was the most disgusting thing I have ever done. My mom came in and found me cleaning up the vomit and feces, she was mad. She grounded me. 3 hours later I went to a friends house to spend the night. That's how groundings work at my house.

The next summer my mom went to jail for 2 weeks. She left us in the care of her boyfriend, who I will call Dave. Dave was 22 years old. I was 13. I remember joking with my mom once that he was closer to my age then her age.

I was at home waiting for a friend to spend the night. Dave had the music up really loud. (It wasn't all that uncommon at my house. It was a party house) Dave gave me a cigarette while I was waiting for my friend to show up. We were in my mom's room. He wanted me to come sit on his lap. I did. He wanted me to give him a kiss. I did. There is more but I am actually getting sick to my stomach so I am not going to write about the rest.

I remember months later telling my mom what happened. She hit me. Hard. My heels made an indent on the wall. I was nothing but a "stupid bitch" who was trying to ruin things between her and Dave. That is the day I realized I hated my mother. I was telling her the truth and all she cared about was her men and drugs.

There are many bits and pieces I am leaving out. It's so hard to pick what to write and what not to write. I could probably write a book about all the stories. Just to speed things up here's a condensed version of my mother. She is a drug addict. She smokes pot and pops pills. She has been in trouble with the law more times then I can count. Up above when she was in jail, she was in jail for giving alcohol to minors. Our house was a party house. At any given time we had 2-3 extra people living with us besides me, my brother and sister. We had a ton of male friends, some female friends, some gay friends (who I caught having sex with another man). There was always a flow of people daily in and out of our home.

My sister and I had to find a way to lock our bedroom door. My mom always had parties on school nights and random people would come in our room. Our room was across the hall from the bathroom, that prolly had something to do with it.

First year of middle school. I had just turned 12 that August. On October 12th, I had sex with an 18 year old boy. It was a one night stand. From that day on I was a whore. I had sex with anyone who asked. This lasted up until I married my first husband.

My sister says that she has blocked out alot of her childhood. I wish I could do the same. I remember alot of drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, sex and beatings. I was the oldest. I was always getting in trouble for something, always. I always get hit first and the worst. And then I would take it out on my sister and brother. I would beat them like my mom beat me. It was awful. I was the school bully when I wasn't having sex with everyone. I got in so many fights it was crazy. I hung out with the wrong crowds, I did alot of drugs. I was a mess. I can't believe I made it through highschool alive and with no STD's. I did get pregnant once. No one knows about it. Not even my current husband. I miscarried. I think I was somewhere around the 2 month mark.

Where's my father you ask?? Hmmmmm, good question. He popped in and out of our lives. He always has a problem with pill popping and alcohol. He has been to jail and prison so many times, I have lost count. Last time I saw him was September of 2007. He called me from the local homeless shelter and asked me to see him. I did. he still looked like my dad. He talked like my dad. But he wasn't. I listened to him talk about missing us and feeling guilty all these years for leaving us. He said he wanted to be there but just couldn't. And now he is in a program with the homeless shelter trying to get back on his feet. This man couldn't remember things about me. He kept getting me and my sister confused. But then he started talking about my mom. He recalled so much about when they were young and in love. I think he really did love her.

He called me while I was out Christmas shopping during the end of 2008. He was having a breakdown. He said he got a job and new clothes but then he looked down and he had his "homeless boots" on. He said he just wanted his life to end. I told him I had to go.

Last I heard, he had the state pull all his teeth out. They were all rotted and he was waiting on dentures.

I hope that when he dies someone will tell me. I do want to be there.

I did have a turning point in my life. It was June of 1999. I was 19 years old and having fun. I was surrounded with a decent group of friends. I had met the man that would be my first husband. But I was still acting a fool. I was drinking and doing drugs but not sleeping around so much.

That night in June I was out with 2 friends, Billy and Jimmy. It was time for me to go home so we hopped in Billy's truck and started to head home. We pulled on my street and the first thing we saw was lights, lots and lots of police lights. There was cops cars, patty wagons, an ambulance. We pulled in the drive way and I jumped out and rushed in the house. Cops were all over. My mom sitting in the dining room crying harder then I had ever seen her cry before. My sister and brother were no where to be found. I asked my mom what was going on. She replied "They found it". I asked her "found out", she replied "the stash".

My mom and her boyfriend, who I will call Brian, (her future husband), were growing pot in the basement (also where her bedroom was). Somehow the police got wind of it and came in and did a raid on the house. They destroyed the house. Every single room looked like a tornado hit it. The really got my room. My room had the attic. The attic is good for drying out pot. My mom and her boyfriend went to jail but were soon released. The police threatened to take my sister and brother away since they were still minors. They were 16. The police threatened to arrest me since I lived there and knew about them growing in the basement. I begged and pleaded and lied to the police about everything. I told them I knew nothing and I was barely home and blah blah blah. Thankfully they bought it. I was ok.

That night changed everything for me. I did not want to end up a drug addict like her. I did not want to have 3 kids living in a hell hole like that. I wanted better.

And now I am almost 30 years old (less then 6 months!!) and I can say that I am finally there. I am finally ok. I am seriously ok. I do not have a relationship with my mother or father, but I do have people in my life that I call family. I have a great husband, children, church and a job that I love.

Speaking of my job...I am so thankful I am finally able to give back. I am finally able to help others that are going through domestic violence or sexual abuse. Each and every single person who walks through these shelter doors is someone really special to me. I can connect with every person. I can feel there pain and be here to cry on.

Without all the events that led up to my life now, I would not be able to be here to give these women and children the support they need. Everything that has happened in my life has been for a reason. It has taken me many years to sort everything out but now I know why. God was not punishing me. God was forming me into who he wanted me to be. Although most of my decisions took me from his path but now I am on track. I am on my little wobbly bike, riding to something great. And I will get there, I will. I know I will. I am doing it for my family. I want them to know the happiness and peace that can come out of all this.

Sorry for the extremely long post tonight but I really had to get somethings out and get them out of my head. I wanted someone to listen. I just wanted to talk and it is still hard for me to talk to people IRL about this. I wrote most of this post crying. Not even sure why. Somethings just really tugged on my emotions. Somethings still hurt. But I am going to be just fine. I have a new life and I have hope.